Changes
by mcabby80
Summary: "They'd been at it for almost four years now though Thomas couldn't quite grasp what exactly 'it' was ..." Thomfred fluff including a little bit of hate-sex.


_I actually wanted to write a short Thomfred Hate!sex drabble inspired by a gif on tumblr._

_Well, I failed …_

**_A/N: In this AU, Jimmy simply doesn't exist. =D_**

"Funny how some people become even more beautiful with age," Alfred teased as his fingers raked through Thomas's hair, toying with the first silver strands they find at his temple. "Is that aimed at me, Mr. Nugent?" Thomas raised a brow, then gave Alfred's leg a playful kick under the covers. Alfred snorted. "If the cap fits…" he whispered, his hands firmly grabbing the back of Thomas's head, forcing the older man to look at him. "..wear it." Thomas's grin quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as he felt Alfred's mouth roughly kissing and licking the bare skin of his neck, those soft lips caressing him almost felt like he was home.

Except he wasn't. It was _Alfred_'s home. The bed, large and cozy and Thomas's most favorite place in the whole world, was Alfred's. And he, Thomas, was nothing but a bloody visitor. He cringed slightly at the thought because, truly, it wasn't fair; Alfred _never_ made him feel that way. And he had asked Thomas once, when he'd started working for the Ritz, hadn't he? To leave Downton, get a job in London and stay with him.

But Thomas, frightened as he was since love was a scary thing after all - had refused. It was only a matter of time - Thomas had decided bitterly - until Alfred would leave him; they all had at some point, in one way or another - and he'd be alone again, heart shattered and beaten, with nothing left but his job at Downton and the pitiful remains that were his life.

Alfred never asked him again.

Yet there was that incredibly strong yearning in his eyes every time they had to part and it made Thomas feel like a terrible bastard. On the train ride back to the Abbey he mused about the life he wanted but didn't dare to lead; swallowing both the tears of guilt and the chocolate Alfred always gave to him to keep for all those long dull days and nights they had to spend apart. (Thomas was fairly certain that not a single piece of chocolate had ever made it to Downton. )

Sometimes Thomas's melancholy changed into an odd unreasonable anger, usually when most of the chocolate was gone and his stomach started to hurt a little. _Why did_ _you never ask me again? _He accused Alfred inwardly, a pained expression on his face, and his fellow passengers would give him funny looks as Thomas shifted restlessly in his seat, wiping his chocolate-smeared mouth with chocolate-smeared fingers and muttering incoherent words to himself. _Damn_ _Alfred,_ _why don't you make me say _it?! _You must know anyway. After all these years …_ Thomas felt his heart wrench in his chest. _One day, Alfie_. He finally assured himself between little bites of the remaining chocolate. _One day …_

_But when?_ Thomas wondered. They'd been at it for almost four years now though Thomas couldn't quite grasp what exactly 'it' was. All he knew was that every time he saw a happy couple or watched an embarrassingly soppy love story at the flicks - _alone_, of course - the scent of Alfred's hair filled his head and he longed for those wide green eyes to look at him the way only Alfred could. The young man warmed his heart, even when he wasn't there, making it grow wider and wider until there was no space inside Thomas that wasn't filled with _him_. _So it must be something serious after all_, Thomas supposed.

Still he wasn't able to wrap his head around how a night that had started off with the ginger footman cornering him in the yard and shoving him angrily against the stone wall ended up with his lips around Alfred's cock and hungry hands tangled in his hair; tugging; caressing before pulling hard again …

"_The house isn't being_ _properly represented, is it?" Alfred growled in his ear and Thomas shuddered when the young man's fingers were_ _pressing furiously into his shoulders. Alfred called him a "bloody bastard" then, voice all husky and rough with emotion, and Thomas's prick hardened in a blink. To say Thomas was horrified would be a vast understatement. _Dear god, it's just bloody Alfred. _Thomas scolded his straining cock, cheeks flaming an angry red as he felt hot unfamiliar lips on his neck and a reciprocating erection bumping against his thigh. _

_The rest was blurry._

Thomas was sure there had been hissed 'I hate you's. Teeth digging deep into soft flesh, almost breaking skin. He also remembered his nails scratching violently down the sensitive insides of Alfred's thighs. And moans; god, those beautiful moans of sweet pain and raw lust that had filled the chilly air until Alfred gasped his name, over and over, as he came hard down Thomas's throat.

It was impossible, _absurd_ even that a few minutes of furious hurried sex had turned into something like _this_. Tender. Precious. Something that was far more to Thomas than just a beautiful distraction or a delightful habit. And although it may seem rather pathetic, if Thomas was honest to himself it was what he was bloody living for.

Only _one_ goddam day a month - and the night of course. Oh, their _nights_… and breakfast in bed the morning after. No matter how early they had to get up, somehow Alfred always managed to provide him with this delectable luxury and Thomas thought it rather funny that he should find the greatest pleasure in such simple things when he was with Alfred.

So after all there was no denying; Thomas utterly _adored_ Alfred and though in a very twisted way he always had. Alfred knew what he wanted out of life, even back then as a footman at Downton when he'd still been half a boy. Over the years Thomas noticed all the little changes in him in silent wonder; Alfred seemed to become exactly the man he was meant to be, and _what a wonderful man that was_ Thomas thought, proudly.

Ambitious but not unyielding. Self-assured but never smug. And without a doubt Alfred was one of the kindest souls in this world yet with that subtle charming sass Thomas secretly admired.

The plain truth was that there had _never_ been a time when Thomas hadn't felt so very _strongly_ about Alfred, as if he'd known of the story of their love even before it was written.

Xx

Thomas ran his thumb idly along Alfred's lower lip, watching little wrinkles dancing around his eyes as Alfred smiled back at him. Thomas sighed heavily.

_You deserve everything, not just a fuck and breakfast together once a month._ _You give me so much yet you expect so little in return._ he thought mutely, that awful guilty feeling gnawing on his insides once again. Thomas's hand softly grabbed Alfred's face and stroked his cheek, fingertips brushing over light ginger stubble. A little smirk crossed his face at the memory of that scratchy skin scraping roughly across his belly; teasingly brushing against the underside of his cock before Alfred had finally taken him in …

"Beautiful." Thomas muttered and kissed that adorable face before him, a face entirely pure and honest and so very familiar. Oh Thomas knew every freckle by heart, those little skin stars delicately adorning Alfred's fair skin. Thomas took a long breath. Yes, Alfred was a grown man now. And Thomas was just - _older_. _Softer_ maybe, in various ways. He preferred not to think about Alfred starting to get bored of him and look for someone new. A younger lover; most likely a man who would give him all the things Thomas didn't. _Every _day and _every_ night.

The mere thought of losing Alfred hurt him like a knife to his heart; only then Thomas realized he would do anything to make Alfred stay …

With a stifled groan Thomas leaned over and briefly kissed Alfred's mouth before brushing their foreheads together. He swallowed tensely. "I'm thinking about a _change_, you know." Thomas tried a nonchalant tone that didn't quite come off; his nerves were on fire and his heart thrumming so wildly in his chest, he could barely hear his own words.

The warm light of the late afternoon sun illuminated Alfred's face, catching in soft ginger strands, and Thomas thought him so very beautiful like that. His fingers shook a little as they ran repeatedly through the small patch of hair on Alfred's chest, a fruitless attempt to ease his racing mind as he waited for a reaction.

"Change?" Alfred slowly sat up, narrowing his eyes at Thomas in suspicion. "What change?" He asked thickly and despite himself Thomas's face started to burn. He cast his eyes down, struggling for words. "London's a lovely city. Uh… so .. so very _modern_." Thomas suddenly felt a little stupid.

"You want to leave Downton after almost 15 years because London is 'modern'?" Alfred exclaimed, bewildered, and Thomas's throat tightened. Perhaps it was a bad idea after all. The dreams of a fool.

"For god's sake, why Thomas?" Alfred shook his head and gazed at him, expression caught between confusion and something unreadable. _Hope_ maybe.

"For love." Thomas muttered quietly. He bit his lip then and for a moment he wanted to take it back, although it was the truth. Precisely because it was the truth. An awkward moment of silence stretched between them, filling the bedroom with the tension of unspoken words. Alfred's lips were pressed to a tight line as he stared down at the covers his fingers were clutching hard.

"For _love_." Thomas repeated, heart jittery, and he reached out a hand to rest on Alfred's.

"Hm," Alfred blinked rapidly, still avoiding Thomas's gaze; his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Yes, this is aimed at _you_, Alfie," Thomas murmured as he lifted Alfred's hand and slowly kissed every single finger before dragging his mouth across the soft skin of his wrist. Alfred remained silent, just looked at him from beneath ginger lashes with this vivid sparkle in his eyes that never failed to make Thomas's heart flutter. Oh he knew _that_ look only too well and he sighed in pleasure when Alfred pushed him back into the mattress and crawled all over him, covering Thomas with his warm milky skin and that alluring scent Thomas had become addicted to.

"Please _touch_ me." Thomas whispered then let his tongue slip into the heat of Alfred's mouth, making him moan and kiss back with fervor. _Oh thank god_ _you've never been able to resist my lips._ Thomas noted silently. He moved his hand to lay it against that firm chest and felt a strong heartbeat pulsing in his fingertips; whether it was Alfred's or his own, he couldn't tell; Thomas supposed that after all this time, it was probably the same …

"I …aah…want you. I do. " Thomas croaked against Alfred's neck with an encouraging rock of his hips. "Oh, you..hmm.. don't know… _how much_ I need you, Alfie. Please." He was not ashamed to beg, not ashamed of anything right now; Thomas had never thought it possible to be so close, so intimate with someone and still it wasn't enough, there would never be enough of _this_.

_Love_. Thomas thought and he felt silly and happy and incredibly aroused as Alfred's deft fingers eventually curled around his hardening cock. He stroked Thomas at a leisurely pace, regarding him carefully with an expression of sweet desire written all over his face.

"God yes…" Thomas groaned, _writhed_ beneath those loving hands and he bit his lip hard, watching in fascination as those long fingers massaged him, slow and fast, rough and tender, just like he needed them to. Those wonderful hands that had touched, _loved_ him a thousand times before and, muffling his gasps with the back of his hand, Thomas struggled to keep his eyes open, almost coming undone at the thrilling sight of Alfred slowly masturbating him into a frenzy.

"I love you, I always have." Alfred sobbed, breathless, into his mouth. "And even when I hated you, when you were nothing but a smug arse, _I loved you_ too, Thomas."

With that, Thomas closed his eyes and came - just the way he liked best: Alfred bent over him, his tongue deep in Thomas's mouth and soft ginger hair tickling at his cheeks. The moment he released into Alfred's fist, ragged words began to spill from Thomas's lips; words he'd been afraid of for years so he'd kept them inside until his heart seemed to burst from the sheer intensity of his feelings. Words like "I'm sorry I made you wait for so long.", "You know I _love_ you, don't you Alfie?" and "Don't leave me.". It wasn't long until he felt Alfred coming too, half-laughing as he spurted across Thomas's belly in beautiful long streaks.

"Oh, my love." Thomas babbled with a sated sigh and pressed himself up against Alfred, pulling him closer …and closer… until he was drowning in an ocean of creamy freckled skin and whispered promises. A blissful calmness overcame Thomas, so profound and intense, for the first time in his life he almost felt _whole …_

And suddenly he knew: He was _home_.

At last.


End file.
